


The Meanderings

by Instantiator



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-17 09:58:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16972467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Instantiator/pseuds/Instantiator
Summary: Jon has just returned with the dragon queen. There is much confusion. Wintefell is in a state of flux. Which way will things go now?First ever fic.





	1. Sansa 1

Her heart was pounding... What had she just heard? What had she just seen? What had she walked in on? It was all too much. Her duties as Lady of Winterfell, her numerous responsibilities, all the uncertainties surrounding them, and now this? What was she to do? 

She longed for simpler times. Was there even a time when the world was simple? They seemed so distant that she sometimes felt they were dreams rather than memories. The cruel river of time flows in only one direction. Nothing can be done about that. Memories fade away. Faces once present at every turn are eventually forgotten. Despite every effort. The laughter and festivity of bygone years become no more than distant echoes. And then, like distant echoes, they die away too. Such had happened to her simpler times. To her innocence. And it will never return. So there was little choice but to deal with the problems each new day threw at her. This had certainly been such a day.

With hindsight it seemed obvious that Sansa should have suspected that much more was going on than Jon's words and his ravens ever indicated. It hurt though. Why did it hurt so much? Was it really so easy for him to give the North up to this foreign Queen? Were their numerous sufferings worth so little to him? Did his knees really bend so easily to the daughter of the man who burnt their grandfather? To the sister of the man who kidnapped and raped their aunt? Did father's war to unseat the Targaryens mean so little to him? "The North remembers" went the old saying. But did Jon? Did Jon remember? The Northern lords had chosen him as their king. It still hurt that she had been passed over so easily. When Lyanna Mormont had stood up and said, "We know no king but the king in the North, whose name is Stark," it had looked like the miraculous was about to happen. Yet again she had been a foolish girl. Miracles did not happen. At least not for her. So she had accepted the choice of the North. She had acted as a dutiful sister. She had done what she had to so she could live up to the noble name of her line. It had hurt when people had said that she wasn't a Stark. That she was a Lannister or a Bolton now. The marriages she was forced into through no choice of her own. She was determined to show them that she was indeed a true daughter of Eddard Stark. That the blood of Winterfell flows in her veins. Had Jon forgotten all this?

With one raven he relinquished the North and made the Wolf a vassal of the Dragon once more. She had tried to put in as palatable a way as she could when she had announced it to the outraged lords gathered in the main hall in Winterfell. Jon was their King and this was his right. He had done it to save them all. Daenerys was not Cersei and children did not bear the guilt of their fathers. Even Torrhen had bent the knee to Aegon the Dragon. She didn't know if she had sounded convincing. It was hard to speak with conviction when her own heart felt so empty. The truth was that she did not understand what her brother had done. Not really. She still did her best to make it sound like she did. There were expected rumblings of dissent, even revolt. Fortunately they had remained rumblings.  

The morning Jon had returned with the Targaryen Queen had been a difficult one. She had tried her best to be as courteous to the Queen as a proper lady should be. This was her home and she was receiving the new Queen, the Queen her brother had submitted to. She tried to seek any hint of the discomfort she was sure Jon must also have felt in his eyes. He had left a King, and returned what? A Warden? A Warden without a lordship? What was even the proper way to address him now? Was he still at least "my lord?" Sansa didn't know. She couldn't see the pain in his eyes though. Was he really so good at concealing it? Maybe he was. His face had rarely given anything away even when they were children. Was it true of all bastards? Ramsay's face also rarely gave anything away. With him though there was never any doubt that his intentions were always malicious.

Within moments of their arrival the sky had gone dark and a terrifying shriek came from the sky. The Dragon Queen's dragons. Even those who had been skeptical of them were convinced when they saw them. Every man and woman there was silent and a afraid. Were these what you knelt to Jon?

"Don't worry about them, they can be quite playful and they've been trained to only go after animal prey," the Dragon Queen had said with a smile. "They're quite well behaved, trust me, they'll never harm people that I protect and befriend." What she left unsaid was louder than what was said... what would be the fate of those whom the Dragon Queen no longer saw as "friends?" What fiery death awaited those who no longer fell under her "protection?" It didn't require much imagination to figure it out. The ways of the Dragonlords had been the same as the ways of Valyria, and fate of those who defied even the maddest and vilest of them was recorded only too well by history. 

And then there was her Dothraki horde. Fearsome warriors one and all. Yet extremely deferential to her, hanging on every word she said in their strange tongue. How had she brought them under her rule? And what of the fearsome legion of former slave soldiers. This huge collective of fearsome and magical foreign forces that followed her. Is this what you knelt to Jon?

She had so much to say. So many questions. So many grievances. Jon, however, never seemed to have any time for her. Much of the day he was outside Winterfell. Sometimes with their own forces, sometimes with the Dothraki. She couldn't pin him down for more than a minute or two at any time. She hardly ever found him in his chambers. Where was he all the time?

 

"If the Lord's Glover and Cerwyn cause too many problems, they can answer to my dragons," Sansa heard the Dragon Queen saying. Her voice was coming from a room that was rarely if ever used.  "I doubt they'd make much of a meal but it'll save some goats; the North may need the goats more."

Sansa was horrified. Unless she was mistaken, the Queen's tone was almost gleeful. Did she relish the prospect of burning lords who displeased her? Is this what you brought here to save us Jon? A monster that burns against a monster that freezes? A Queen that giggles at the prospect of feeding men to her dragons?  Was she going to be another Aerys? Was she saying this to Tyrion? Surely he'd be disusted by this. Part of her just felt like fleeing from here. What if this Queen found her presence displeasing. Another part of her stopped her, however. Why should she be the one to run? This was still her home? And her curiosity was just too strong...

 

It was only in the seconds after the scream left her lips that she realized that she had screamed at all. Whatever she had expected to see, this had not been it. Truthfully her angle had been such that she probably would have escaped all notice from the eyes of those within the room.  Keeping her composure had become impossible the moment her eyes fell on what she saw inside the room. There was the Dragon Queen, naked from the waist up--as her garment was ready to slip further--sitting comfortably in Jon's lap. Her brother was in a similar state of undress. They seemed to be kissing passionately when Sansa walked in on them. Her scream had immediately made them aware of her presence.

If the Dragon Queen had any sense of shame or felt any embarrassment at all it certainly didn't show. At least Jon had the decency to to look down, to try to reach for his shirt, but the Dragon Queen made no move like that. Instead she just turned towards her while staying seated where she was--she had a confident and haughty look in her eyes as she ran her fingers through Jon's hair, almost as if daring, challenging Sansa to object to what she had walked in on, and marking Jon as **_hers_**. Then she asked, in what Sansa had come to recognize in her Queenly tone, "Is there something important my lady or can it wait till the morrow?" 

"Wha.. wha... No, sorry your Grace, I... it can wait " and Sansa had just run.

What was she going to do now? In all the scenarios she had dreamed up, this hadn't been one of them. Littlefinger had mentioned that Jon may want to marry the Queen but even that had sounded absurd to Sansa. Whatever offices he may hold, he was still born a bastard. He may marry the daughter of a minor lord, perhaps even a major one after being named King, but a born princess? She was sure the only reason Baelish thought it was ever possible was because he had never managed to realize how hard it was for someone from a lower class to marry so far above him. Hadn't his own ruin come from his own obsession with unattainable women. But that was Baelish. Not Jon. What was Jon doing? What was the Queen doing?

The tears wouldn't stop flowing. She had locked herself in her room. Still finding it hard to make sense of the revelations that had rocked her understanding of her brother and her reality. What was it that Cersei had told her once? That a woman's greatest woman was the one between her legs? Was that how the Dragon Queen had conquered you Jon? She was undoubtedly beautiful. More beautiful than anyone Sansa had ever seen. "The Dragon Queen is quite beautiful" Littlefinger had said. An understatement if there ever was one, Sansa thought bitterly. With her dragons, her armies, her thousand titles, had the Dragon Queen even mastered the use the most feminine weapon available to her? Was another one of her brothers to fall to his ruin due to his inability to resist the charms of a woman? Was her House cursed with men whose honor was so strong as to lead them to their deaths, and yet so weak as to surrender completely when a beautiful woman turned her attentions in their direction? But could she even blame Jon, or even Robb? Hadn't it taken Joffrey killing her father for her to stop seeing him as a god among men? _But you were still a child! Robb and Jon were grown men! How did it not terrify Jon that this woman could so casually joke about burning men alive?_

 Was  ** _this_** what Jon had been doing all those times she couldn't find him? Why had she even been allowed to find them like this? The last question was easier to answer. Clearly the Unsullied guards that accompanied the Queen had been told not to block the Lady of Winterfell when she was going about doing things in her castle and hence never obstructed her. She wished they had though. And the Queen, she was also a Dothraki Khaleesi was she not? Didn't they do their business in the open where the whole world could see? No wonder she was so shameless. Sansa had to realize that while Daenerys may look and speak like a highborn Westerosi lady, she had spent much time with brutal savages. How much of a savage had she become? And Jon had fallen for one savage woman, an ordinary wildling. Why not a beautiful queen of savages? Yet it still felt like such a great betrayal...

 

* * *

It was early next morning when she heard the loud knocking on her door. Her attempts to sleep during the night had all failed. She had little doubt about who was knocking. Why was he here? He could not make her unsee what she had seen.

 

"Sansa, I want to explain--"

"Explain what? I'm a woman twice married Jon, once to a vile monster who put me through experiences that would terrify every whore in Molestown; I'm not a child who needs these things explained to her." She had not meant to sound so angry. But she could not stop herself. She was hurt.

"Tell me, Jon, is that all it took? Was that the price of your honor? Perhaps mother was always right about you. Bastards have no honor. Whatever you had was easily traded for a... _cheap price_. What do you think our father would have said if he had seen you last night? What would you say to him if he were alive today?"

She hadn't wanted to be so cruel. But she also had. She felt deeply hurt and she wanted to hurt him too. It was clear that she had succeeded.

"I did not know that you still thought of me in those terms," he said, in a dejected tone.

"I wanted not to, but what other choice have you left me?"

Jon looked down, his eyes sad. The next second he seemed to get angry, "What is wrong with you? Why don't you understand that everything I do, I do for our people?"

"Oh is 'our people' what you're calling it now? I assume Tyrion would be quite amused with this new nomenclature."

"You think it was easy?" he cried. "You think it was easy to make Daenerys drop her dream of conquest and bring her mighty forces here to the North to fight legendary demons that most the country doesn't even believe in? You think it was easy convincing her to make us a priority rather than pursue her quest for the Conqueror's metallic monstrosity? You have no idea what I've been through, what I have had to go through. But I do what I have to do. You ask me what I would say to father if he were alive today? I'd tell him that I am whatever the world needs me to be, whatever the North needs me to be."

She could hardly stop the bitter laugh that escaped her mouth. "Are you saying that the North needs you to do what I saw last night? Your ability to delude yourself... I thought it was for poets to attach greater significance to their minor affairs in their songs, but you have sincerely attached cosmic significance to yours. How did you do that? Have you been partaking too much of the Southern wines my former husband favors?"

"I will only say this once," he said. His voice was now dangerous in way that had never been directed at her before. It made her go silent.

"What I am doing is necessary. I had to bring Daenerys North at any cost. ANY COST. If it meant bending the knee, so be it. If it meant giving her myself, so be it. What you seem to forget sweet sister, is that these proud Northern lords who are grumbling now were not so loyal when we were going around begging them to join our cause and fight Ramsay. What do you think they will say in the future? Treasonous words are rarely far from their lips. You think Daenerys will tolerate their insolence like we do? You'll be very wrong to think so. They'd all end up as piles of ashes. But for my sake Daenerys may stay her hand. She may remain committed to staying in the North and helping us. And if you're too short-sighted to see this... then you really are your mother's daughter."

Sansa mouth felt dry and bitter as he walked away.

 

 

 


	2. Daenerys 1

She couldn't believe it. She wouldn't. How could this be possible? Was she really destined to face this, again and again? Was this a great punishment from whatever powers existed for her pride and hubris?

But then why would Varys lie to her about this? Surely he had to know that she’d never spare him for telling a lie of such magnitude and import. She had been very clear about that hadn’t she? But Varys _had_ betrayed Kings he had served before. His treasons, had they come to light, would have led to his death even with them. That had not stopped him had it? Maybe he was lying to her too. Another political game. Another manipulation. Another lie that would change the course of history because he no longer liked the course it was taking.

Between the two of them, was it really even a choice? If forced to make a choice between trusting Jon or Varys, she would choose Jon every time. She would choose Jon every time against anyone else in the world. _Three treasons will you know_ , the Undying had said. _Once for Blood, Once for Gold, Once for Love_. Was this it? Was the man she had come to love so much her final betrayer? Or was it the man who was trying to come between her and the man she loved her final betrayer? The meaning of prophecy remained ever elusive.

What would she do? What should she do? Was Varys telling her the truth about what Jon had said to his sister this morning? It couldn’t possibly be true could it? 

Could the man she had come to love so much in such a short time really just be using her? Would the honorable and heroic man who had stolen her heart be another betrayer? It seemed strange to her but in few short weeks her cabin on her ship had come to feel more like ‘home’ to her than any place she had known since she was expelled from the house with the red door. And it was obvious what the reason was. It was where he had come to her. It was where he came to her every night.

But it didn’t make any sense, did it? Varys said that Jon had said that he had to give himself to her to bring her to the North. That he had been forced to bend the knee to her to bring her to the North. None of that was true. Even her advisors, not even her Hand had opposed the idea that she should go north. Even when none of them had known that Jon had bent the knee. It was so clearly the right thing to do.  She was already going to do it. She had even told Jon so. Why would Jon ever say these things to his sister? They were clear lies. Would Varys give her a false report like this? She hadn’t said anything but she thought it was obvious to most of her advisors that her relationship with Jon was sacred territory. They knew not to express any opinion about it unless she asked for it. Would Varys really dare?

_Once for love…_

It was all so confusing. She knew what was in her heart. She knew her heart told her that she could trust Jon. That she could believe in him. That he was the one she belonged with. She knew that after a lifetime of searching, it was with him that she truly felt like she had reached the destination she was always meant to reach. Should she start questioning her heart? Had it made her go astray? Could she really believe that? It was her heart she had followed when she had first stepped into the flames many years ago in the Dothraki sea. And it had brought miracles to life. It was following what her heart told her was true that had enables her to accomplish the impossible… and not once  had it managed to catch her betrayers. The Lhazarene witch had killed her Rhaego before he had drawn a single breath and Dany had trusted her. Was she making such a mistake again?

 _Once for love_ …

What was she to do? Why was this so difficult? She could conquer cities, yet was so irresolute in matters of the heart. Should she confront him and ask him directly? If it was a lie, where would she and Jon stand then? Would he despise her for thinking of him like that? He had never given her any reason to think he was dishonorable had he? … _And what if it was true?_ A small voice from deep within her fearful heart asked. She refused to acknowledge it. What would he have to say about her having spies in his home? No. the risk was too great. She could not risk Jon’s love. Not even a little bit. Not if there was a chance that this was false… And there was already reason to suspect it. The story didn’t add up did it? Jon did not need to do any of these things to bring her to the North… _but maybe he thought he did_ —came another small voice. She crushed it ruthlessly.

What was she to do. She couldn’t just ignore it. She knew herself. Her heart would never let her rest if this remained unresolved. How should she approach it? There seemed to be only one way…

* * *

 

“You left very early.”

“Yes, I uh—I thought it was important to talk to Sansa after what she saw last night,” Jon replied.

Well at least he had been truthful about that. That was a good sign. Or was it? She didn’t want the rest of Varys’ report to be true.

“Why do you have to explain anything to her? You’re not betrothed to her are you?” she asked. She was proud of herself for maintaining such a cool and casual front.

Had her heart not been in such turmoil, Jon’s reaction to her statement may have given her much cause to laugh. He seemed mortified. His eyes went completely out of focus, as if he’d stared straight at the sun.

“BETROTHED! She’s my sister!”

“I’d be the last one to judge anyone on something like that Jon,” she said, maintaining her cool façade.

“I’d sooner get betrothed to Night King and for the record, I would not want to marry the Night King. Here in the North, that would not be… uh… done.”

It was good, she thought, that she had managed to distract him enough for her next question to seem perfectly natural and innocuous.

“So what explanations did you give your sister? Did you tell her how I make you scream for all your gods at night? Did you tell her how you’ve kissed my lips—you know which ones—and turned the breaker of chains into your willing bedslave?” it was so easy to just revert to this banter when they were in private. Even though there was no lie in anything she had related, Jon’s cheeks you still went red when she said it like that. But she had to snap out of it. She needed answers. What would he say?

Jon became quite serious.

“I told her what she needed to hear in order to keep her loyal to our plans and ensure that she did not cause any trouble. I don’t think she will now,” he said.

This was something new. What was going on here? Perhaps she did not have all the pieces of this picture.

“The best way to keep someone from conspiring against you, is to make them believe they are conspiring with you,” Jon said. “At least that’s what Samwell said. Maybe I took his advice too seriously.”

This was clearly very difficult for him. What was he saying? Was it his sister that he had deceived instead of her? Was that why he was having such a hard time talking about it? She had to push on though.

“Did you tell her what you and I are to each other?” she asked.

Jon smiled sadly. “I can hardly tell her what I do not know. What are we to each other? I have asked you many times but you never give me an answer. I know I am a bastard. No one thinks I have any business marrying a Queen. Westeros would probably never tolerate it. So what am I to you?”

No, no, no! This is not where this conversation was supposed to go! She had not answered that question because she did not know how to answer that question. She would love to marry him. She knew that. She could not even think of marrying anyone else. She knew that too. To feel the hand of any other man on her… It was unthinkable. But what future could they have? Could she remain unmarried and him stay with her? Could she deprive him of the chance to actually have a wife and family of his own for such selfish reasons? She could never give him any children. He didn’t seem bothered by that today, but what if he came to resent her for it? Would she be able to bear it? Could she find some way to make their marriage acceptable to the people of Westeros. A Queen and a bastard who didn’t even accept the gods of most of the people of Westeros? She desperately wanted to believe it was possible. If not, she even considered leaving Westeros behind and returning to Essos with her people. None of them would challenge or question her choices. Was restoring her House for one last time before it died out permanently really so important that she should forego her greatest path to happiness for it? She didn’t have an answer for him because she yet to formulate an answer herself. She believed she would. But she didn’t have one yet.

“We’ll talk about that later,” she said.

“Yes, alright,” he said. Clearly not happy with the way things were.

“What did you mean that you need to get people to think they are conspiring with you?” she asked.

He stood up and walked to the window. His back to her.

“I told you how Lady Catelyn always saw me as a stain on her family. How she always wanted me gone. How she feared I’d take away what belonged to her children. Well, Sansa is more like her mother than any of her other children. How do you think she felt when I was named King in the North over her?” he asked.

“Your people named you their King because you proved yourself to them. Because they saw who you were,” Dany said, as she put her hand in his. She knew how deep these wounds were.

“Well Sansa didn’t think so. Do you know that she came close to removing me from my position while I was at Dragonstone by conspiring with some of the other lords here? Arya told me the whole story yesterday.”

“And are you sure you can trust Arya?” she asked.

“With my life. More than Sansa at any rate.”

“So I realized that it may not be that hard for Sansa to rationalize a betrayal like that. Especially one that put her in a position of power. It would be easier for her to justify it to herself if she somehow convinced herself that she was doing it for the future of House Stark, and the greater good of the North.”

“Why keep her in such a position of power then if you can not trust her?” Dany was really curious.

“It is her rightful position. Unless Bran returns to who he was, this is her Keep. Her Castle. Her position. Winterfell is her inheritance. I will certainly never justify Lady Catelyn’s words about me and steal it. I never did when I was King in the North. I will not now. But the situation is delicate right now. If the lords of the North come to believe that the voice of House Stark is against me, then their loyalty becomes suspect. Some of them will be more loyal to me, but not all of them. I know I said that they will come to see you for who you are. But that needs time. If Sansa makes it acceptable to have a negative view of you from the very beginning the they will never see all the good in you.”

“That is extraordinary political thinking from someone I had, well, not considered so inclined. What have you done with my Jon? Is that you Tyrion?” she joked.

She’d called him _my Jon_! But he didn’t seem to notice.

“It was mostly Sam actually. He does have an extraordinary mind for these things it appears.”

Yes Samwell _Tarly_ … that was another uncomfortable conversation that would come up inevitably. Hopefully not in the near future.

“And you’re sure she will be under control now?” she asked.

“I think so. I certainly painted a picture that should help with that. Arya will keep me informed if things start getting bad,” he said.

Maybe she should get to know Arya better. Jon really seemed to trust her completely. She wanted Arya to have a good opinion of her.

In either case she doubted she could ask him any further without actually revealing that Varys had spied on him. And Jon’s explanation seemed quite convincing didn’t it? Even if Varys was telling her the truth. Her faith in Jon was restored. Should she ask the Spider not to spy on Jon again. She probably should. But she realized that for some reason she was not ready to do so yet. Maybe she’ll tell him to stop spying on Jon later. She did trust Jon right? Yes she did. But perhaps the Spider may notice something that Jon may miss? It was better to get multiple impressions of a situation to be sure she had the proper picture. That is what she told herself... as she prepared to join him in bed again.


	3. Arya 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a slight canon divergence here, which will become clear in the chapter.

[A few hours earlier]

Arya was sure Sansa and Jon thought that she spent most of her day either training with Brienne or in the Winterfell forges. But that was hardly true. She had important work to do. There were so many new people here. Who could be trusted? Who was reliable? Her family had nearly been annihilated because of their honor and loyalty and the treachery and treasons of others. Which one of these people could she trust? Arya Underfoot would have been of no use here. _No One_ , however, could be far more useful. Well not as much as her brother who could tell them that the world was about to end in the same disinterested tone in which he would tell them that he had finished his cabbage soup. Bran was this weird “three-eyed raven” now which really sounded like a silly name meant to make him sound important. As far as she could see he was a “two-eyed human” who had creepy visions and that was it. He spent most of his time obsessing with the army of dead men that him and Jon and Jon’s friend who reminded her of Hotpie (although he didn’t know how to cook well, only how to read books—he did have an amazing sword though, even if it was too big for Arya to use), were always talking about. So it was left to her to keep an eye on everything and everyone. She had many faces to help her do it. There were so many new faces around that no one blinked if a complete unknown was seen walking about in Winterfell. It was one of the tricks she has learnt in Braavos. Act like you belong in a place and you become invisible. Arya was a master of this.

Right now she was looking for Jon. She had some important information to share with him. There were things going on in Winterfell that he had to be told about. Things that did not please Arya, and probably would not please him. There were also things that disturbed her personally. Faces that seemed oddly familiar, even though she couldn’t figure out why. Had she come across them when she was wandering around the Riverlands? Or when she was in Braavos? She couldn’t recall. That unsettled her more than it should.

Then there was the duo of Littlefinger and Varys. Both seemed to respect each other. What games were they playing? One had the ear of her sister. The other had the ear of the Queen. She didn’t trust either of them. But then again, she trusted hardly anyone. Littlefinger had been trying to ingratiate himself with the Queen though. He was always mentioning his work as Master of Coin and how difficult it had been to keep the realm from total bankruptcy and financial disaster despite the ruinous practices of Robert Baratheon. He also told her about the numerous connections he had with major Essosi banks, and how it was unfortunate that Westeros did not have a major bank of its own. The Queen certainly seemed interested in these ideas, even though her own advisers consistently advised her to be wary of Littlefinger. She had threatened him with a painful death should he ever betray her, but Littlefinger had simply sworn that he would never do that to a worthy monarch. Would she let him into her inner circle? That still remained to be seen.

What about Lord Varys however? Was he even a lord? He seemed rather weary of her. Probably a wise idea. What was his plan here? Was he really as loyal to the Queen as he seemed to be or was he just pretending? More importantly, what were his intentions for House Stark? Sansa certainly did not seem to trust him. She remembered him as Cersei’s loyal creature. Yet now he was here with the Dragon Queen. He had spies within Winterfell. She knew that much. She had identified some of them. Had she identified all? She could not be sure. It was easier to keep an eye on him rather than his numerous spies. Should she kill them? Except that now that Jon had bent the knee to the Dragon Queen, were these her spies now? Wouldn’t it be wrong to kill spies that were in the employ of their own Queen? It would seem so. Although Arya had not really been sure how far the Queen even knew of their existence. Nonetheless no Queen ever knows everyone who works for her. So it was complicated. But Arya didn’t like having these spies around.

She finally found Jon in the Godswood, all alone, staring at the sky. Why was he so broody?

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Jon noticed her for the first time. Although she was not trying to be stealthy.

“I would have though it was quite obvious. I’m looking at the sky” he answered

“It has been rather dark for days now. It’s almost like we only have an evening and a night followed by another evening. I can barely remember when I last saw the sun. And it is always cloudy. Are winters always like this?”

“I have little experience of winter myself little sister,” he said—she loved it when he called her that—even if she wasn’t so little any more. But Jon always did act like he was fifty years older than her than just five. “But as far as the records we have, and the stories told by people who have lived through previous winters, no. This is quite unique.”

It was rather funny to hear him speak like he was some sort of Maester. Which he most certainly wasn’t. Did he even know how to deliver a baby? Probably not.

“But maybe that is why they call it the Long Night.”

Those words always terrified Arya, as they did any child of the North. The Long Night was a story told to terrify children. For thousands of years this was what people believed. Maester Luwin and even her father had been dismissive of these. Arya had seen all sorts of horrors. She had become a horror. And in the end it was always people who were responsible for these. That she understood. Yet now everyone was preparing to seriously fight these ancient monsters and Arya had no experience and understanding of them.

“Night gathers and now my Watch begins,” her brother said. “How blind we were to say the words when the sun shone in its full brilliance and to not understand what they meant.”

She knew the words. They were part of the vows of the Night’s Watch weren’t they?

“But you left the Night’s Watch. Why are repeating their vows now?” she was confused.

“Were they vows Arya? Or were they a prophecy? Or were they a history?” Jon said.

“Jon I already have one extremely confusing brother who says cryptic things and acts mysterious. I don’t need another. What are you even talking about? Prophecy? History? They’re completely different things.”

“Are they?” he asked in a voice so sad and forlorn it broke her heart. What was going on here? She didn't understand. So she punched him.

“Ow—what was that for?” he was clearly surprised. Good.

“Because you’re being stupi—v ” she was saying, as a snowball hit her smack in the face. This was better...

A few minutes and much chasing, wrestling and snowballs later they were both tired. Amazingly snowball fights were more tiring than combat training. Who would’ve thought?

“Alright enough of this. I came here to talk to you about some things” she said.

“Which are?”

“There are spies at Winterfell,” she declared.

“Oh, are there now?”

Why was he being so annoying. She realized that at some level he still saw his little sister. He did not see what she had become. Should she be angry at him for this? She realized that she couldn’t. The truth was that a part of her still wanted to be the little sister he remembered. She did not want to destroy that picture in his mind. Because that Arya was still lovable. At least for some people. Would this Arya be loveable? She had become a monster because she thought all that was left to life was killing the monsters that took away her family. How was she to fit in with the family she thought she’d lost?

 

“I’m being serious. Look I have been following some of them. Lord Varys has spies here, his “little birds” he calls them,” _what a creep,_ “and they report to him.”

Jon had now become serious.

“What else have you seen?” he asked.

“Littlefinger seems to be very good at identifying them and normally manages to evade them.”

“Have you told Sansa?”

“Not yet, but Littlefinger may have, I’m not sure. If he has then she hasn’t told me. Has she told you?”

“No she hasn’t,” he responded.

“I think it may be better not to tell her at this point and see if she actually knows,” Arya said.

“Why is that?” he wondered.

“To see how far she is willing to share what she knows with us, or whether she is still keeping secrets from us,” was he really so naive?

“But that assumes that Littlefinger has already told her, or that she already knows. But we know neither of these things yet.”

“That will become obvious quite quickly too. If she doesn’t become more cautious in places she is being spied upon then we’ll know that Littlefinger is playing another one of his games,” she said confidently.

“Alright Arya. When did both my sisters become like this? It almost gives me a headache” he agreed reluctantly.

“We had to become like this because our brothers have grand ideas of duty and honor and keep getting killed, so someone has to make sure they survive.”

“Jon, there is one more thing.”

“What is that?” he asked.

“Varys has also spied on you and reported to the Queen on what you are doing.”

“Is that so?” he asked, suddenly the life seemed to have left his eyes, “I suppose it is to be expected… it is… it is his job.”

“He just reported to her regarding a conversation you had with Sansa this morning.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Jon was pensive, “so his ‘birds’ are active even that early in the morning then.” He finally seemed to get it.

“And Jon?” she said sweetly.

“Yes?”

“ **CLOSE THE DOOR NEXT TIME OR I’LL WALK IN YOU INTENTIONALLY!** ” Arya screamed. And to emphasize it she pushed him down into the snow again. Of course she’d would never actually walk in on him on purpose. She would much rather take that potion that blinded her for a lifetime than walk in on **_that_**. But the look of pure horror on his face meant that he’d certainly remember it. And be terrified enough to take the proper precautions.

That is where she left Jon. He would probably be brooding again and thinking cryptic thoughts. She wondered if spending time with Bran did that to him. He had just seen Bran before going to the Godswood after all.

Of all the new players at Winterfell, the Queen’s forces were unique in seemingly having no elements of subterfuge and trickery. Or they were so good at it that even her skills couldn’t detect them. That was quite rare, but it was possible. Littlefinger could sometimes accomplish it. She had no doubt Varys could too. Did Varys know that she knew about his little birds? Did he tell the Queen knowing that Arya would be eavesdropping? She was wearing another face then. Not one that ought to be familiar to anyone here. This was exhausting. It was harder than having a list of names and giving the names on the list the gift. But yes, it was unlikely that the Queen’s forces were like that. She saw not a hint of this from the Unsullied or the Dothraki. The same could not be said for her three advisers though. Tyrion, Varys, and Jorah Mormont were different sorts of creatures entirely, and she did not find any of them trustworthy. Jorah had been sentenced to death by her father. Did the Queen pardon him? Arya had heard that she punished slavers.

Then there was the Queen herself. So far Arya had not had any opportunity to interact with her. Her dragons were amazing, of course. Arya wondered if the Queen would ever let her ride one. But that was silly wasn’t it? Didn’t you need Dragon blood to do that? Unless she took Arya for a ride. But she doubted she would even get to meet the Queen under the current circumstances. Did the Queen really love Jon? Arya had no idea. To judge that she would have to know her better.


	4. Tyrion 1

Tyrion was often nervous here, in the North. He was a hated Lannister. The irony of that didn’t escape him. Hated _by the_ Lannisters, and hated _as a_ Lannister. He may be the most unique Lannister in history. And the Hand of the Targaryen Queen. _Targaryen_ was not a name too beloved to the North either, even though the last living person to bear that name had certainly become quite beloved to one prominent Northerner. This was a problem. A big one. Especially for Tyrion.

It was not that he didn’t expect someone to fall in love with the Queen. It was quite expected in fact. _A man with functioning eyes would already be half the way there_ —what choice did the poor Northerner have? Sometimes he thought that perhaps Varys was actually fortunate that he had lost these temptations when he had lost his parts. But had he? Greyworm was making Tyrion rethink what he thought he knew of these matters. And he thought he knew **_a lot_** about these matters. Best not think too much on that right now though.

The problem was that his affections were so clearly being returned. The Queen clearly had little interest in concealing where her heart lay from those who followed her. THAT was a major problem. It was throwing all manner of plans into chaos. Unlike some others, it was not chaos, but _order_ in which Tyrion thrived. But the order that was shaping up right now did not seem to be in his favor. Or in favor of the world he wanted to see take shape. What was he to do about this? Should he adopt the ways of those who did thrive on chaos? They seemed to be as successful as he ever was, if not more.

When they had initially reached Dragonstone, Tyrion thought it was wise not to set up a formal Small Council or distribute offices. Firstly, they did not have competent people to fill all the offices. Secondly, these offices could be used as bribes to bring various lords over to their side. Thirdly, they needed to control a substantial amount of territory and have some stability before such a Council could realistically do anything. The informal system they had in place seemed to work better for their needs at that point. He was the Hand of the Queen and was very clearly her top adviser and second in command. Everything was working out well.

Now, however, that same set-up had turned against him. Officially Jon Snow may well be the Queen’s “Warden of the North” but everyone in the Queen’s orbit knew that Jon outranked them. And that was a big problem. Tyrion could have easily tolerated a Daario of the North. But that was not what he was getting. Jon was present at every Council meeting. Asking the Queen for a word alone, away from Jon, clearly irritated her even if she would grant it. She could easily say that he could express himself before Lord Snow. Moreover, what was even more indicative of the current hierarchy was who got to interrupt whom when they were discussing matters in the Council. The Queen could, of course, interrupt anyone at any time. No one would ever interrupt her. That was normal. But here was the new order: Only the Queen got to interrupt Jon. If anyone else did it, they could expect the Queen to immediately snap at them and tell them that Lord Snow was making a point and that she was more interested in letting him complete it first. After one or two times, everyone knew to keep their silence. Moreover, Jon even got to interrupt the Queen sometimes, even though he would do it respectfully and call her “Your Grace” and show other appropriate courtesies. For all intents and purposes, Jon had become an acting consort to the Queen. And everyone knew it.

He knew the Queen would like to take it even further. Fortunately Jon’s being a bastard made that quite difficult. But Daenerys Targaryen had accomplished impossible things before.  When on the road to Winterfell, the Queen had casually told her entourage that no separate tent would be needed for Jon. No one asked any questions. When Missandei informed her that the Dothraki had taken to calling Jon “Khal Jon”, the Queen’s only reaction was a small smile, and a remark that, “well that is the closest word they have to King.” No one pointed out that Jon was in no way a King any more. He had bent the knee. And there were no ‘Khals’ among the Dothraki. All their Khals had suffered a fiery death. They had but one Khaleesi, who was unburnt and led them forth on her dragons. Whose word was law and may as well have come from the Seven-Pointed-Star. The implication of them calling Jon “Khal” was clear and not lost on the Queen. The implication of her refusal to discourage it in any way was also clear.

Was this the Queen’s plan? It was an exceedingly clever one if it was. It may even work. Make Jon her _de facto_ consort for long enough and obviously enough, and by the time she suggests making it a _de jure_ situation people would not even care enough to object to it since hardly anything would change anyhow. That backed with the power of dragons, legitimization as a Stark, and a public conversion to the Faith of the Seven may just be enough to make the people of Westeros accept this marriage. Would Jon convert to the Seven? Daenerys may not believe in any gods but publicly she had to take the mantle of “defender of the Faith.” Jon may well be too committed to Ned Stark’s trees to do it _. It may work even without it_. However, it was an obstacle. One to note. It may prove useful _eventually_.

A marriage between them was unacceptable of course. It threw his plans into too much confusion. Learning that Daenerys could not have children had been a gift from the Seven. Learning that Cersei was pregnant was another gift. Not only had it made it possible to sway her to assist their war effort in the North, it had also allowed Tyrion to come up with a plan to solve everything in one go.  If Lannister forces fought side by side with them in the war against the dead, it would be much harder for Daenerys to return to making war against the Lannisters. This could create an ideal situation for Tyrion to negotiate a settlement that could put Daenerys on the Throne and yet secure the position of House Lannister. Cersei could give up the Crown in exchange for Daenerys agreeing to make Cersei and Jaime’s child her heir. Raised away from Cersei’s toxic influence, at the Red Keep, the child could grow up to be a good King or Queen. Tyrion could be there to help the child along and raise it. Cersei and Jaime could return to Casterly Rock and have a comfortable existence there under Tyrion’s protection as Hand of the Queen, Warden of the West, and the Lord of Casterly Rock. It was a good plan. _Was it not_? Even Cersei seemed persuaded when he had proposed it. She had even opined that it may be a good idea for her to hire some Essosi sellswords and send them North alongside the Lannister forces as well to show how committed they were to the greater fight. Yes, he knew he probably should not have discussed his Queen’s fertility with her rival, but this was a matter of his House’s survival. Everyone including Cersei knew that military vctory was impossible against Daenerys.  Whatever he may have said to Daenerys about wanting to destroy his House, in this matter he remained a son of Tywin Lannister. A Lion of the Rock through and through.

Nowhere in Tyrion’s plans was there any space for the son for Ned Stark to become the Queen’s consort. _Sure, they could hold the North for the Queen as its Wardens, as they traditionally had for centuries_. But the Starks had greater reason to hate the Lannisters than even Daenerys did. It would shift the balance of power completely and decisively in favor of the North. Daenerys may even feel like choosing a Northern heir. Even without that they may be extremely resistant to having a Lannister heir for the Queen. Then where would they be?

What was to be done? It was not an easy problem to solve. Trying to propose alternative, more ‘suitable’ marriage partners to the Queen was clearly useless. If they were too powerful that would cause the same problem that he was trying to avoid in the North. Not to mention there were hardly any such partners available in Westeros, _unless he counted himself and Jaime that is_. But even a suggestion of that would probably lead the Queen to suggest that Tyrion should lead the Dothraki in the vanguard in their next battle. So that was clearly not a suggestion he dare make. _At least not yet_. If they were not powerful enough Daenerys would simply dismiss the match as pointless. Besides Daenerys would probably see through the ploy.

The same was true for trying to suggest matches for Jon. As his Queen, Daenerys had the authority to reject any such matches. She always had a ready made excuse that she did not find the match to have sufficient political advantage. And who even would dare suggest it when the Queen had been so open about her affections for her Warden? It would be sure to make one fall out of the Queen’s favor and be seen as direct offence to her if it was suggested by someone who already knew how the Queen and the Warden felt about each other.

What would make Daenerys and Jon give up on this? He could try to confront Daenerys directly and argue that she simply could not expect Westeros to accept such a match. What were the chances of that working though? Daenerys saw Jon as this honorable and flawless hero and she was more likely to make it her mission to make Westeros accept him as such as well. It may even work. Jaehaerys I had sent out many propagandists to make his marriage to his sister acceptable to people and they had done much to praise Alysanne all over the land. She had been known as the “Good Queen” ever since. It didn’t help that Jon actually had qualities that could allow such a reputation to stick as well.

No, it was clear that it was Jon’s image in Daenerys’ eyes that had to be weakened. _But how does one do that for a woman who loves him so much_? It won’t be easy but there must be a way. There was too much depending on it. Trying to persuade the Queen directly would be foolish. Daenerys would see through it in a second and she hated it when someone tried to control her. And that’s when it struck him. _She hated it when someone tried to control her_. Would Jon do that? _He doesn’t have to do it, she just has to think that he’s doing it_! An impression will do the work of reality. A misunderstanding will appear as an epiphany. She was proud. She was fierce. She was determined. Those very same qualities could now be his deliverance. Just plant the proper seeds, water them discreetly, and let them grow… but he needed allies. It shouldn’t be too hard. He wasn’t the only one unhappy with the Queen’s chosen lover…

Did he feel guilty for doing this? Maybe a bit…but his plan could avoid so much war, and save so many lives as well as the future of his House. For the price of what? Love? He had seen what they was worth when he found Shae in the his father’s bed the night before he was scheduled to be executed.

 

* * *

 

“Greetings Lord Tarly!” Tyrion said.

“Oh I’m not Lord Tarly my lord,” Samwell said shyly, “my father is Lord Tarly and my brother will be Lord Tarly after him. I joined the Night’s Watch you see.”

“Well we could get the Queen to release you from your vows. As for your father and brother…”

And Tyrion related the whole story of what had happened beside the Blackwater Rush.

Samwell was shocked, as expected.

“Did you have any other family?”

“My—my mother and sister were at Hornhill… they…” and Samwell ran towards to rookery. That suited Tyrion just fine. By the time he gets any ravens from the South, they’ll tell him that his mother and sister were raped and murdered by returning soldiers who had bent the knee to Daenerys and were unhappy that Lord Tarly had led them to such a horrible defeat. Tyrion could thank Varys for that piece of misinformation.  It was unfortunate that Samwell had to go through this, but there were bigger issues to think about.

* * *

 

“Lady Sansa can I have a word with you?” Tyrion said.

“Yes, what is it my Lord?”

“My lady, you have always been far wiser than you let on. I knew this back in King’s Landing. I know it now,” he said. Seven, his former wife was lovely. Had he actually managed to restrain himself so well? He must have been a good man then.

“I try to do my duties according to the best of my abilities my lord.”

Always proper. Like a perfect Southern lady. But she was not that, he knew.

“I hear that there is much grumbling among the Northern lords about our presence here.”

Sansa said nothing. But she visibly stiffened.

Now was the time.

Suddenly Tyrion adopted a dark and menacing tone that surprised Sansa, “I would suggest, my lady that they keep the memory of Harren Hoare in mind. There was a reason the North never had to see that. Tell them not to forget it.”

“What are you trying to say my lord? Are you trying to frighten me?” she asked, almost defiantly.

“I am merely the Hand of her Grace the Queen my lady, I do not try to frighten her loyal and dutiful subjects” he said in a false saccharine voice and left without waiting for any further answer.

Lady Sansa was clearly more unhappy with their presence here than her brother was. Chances were that she knew about the nature of Jon's relationship with their new Queen as well. If she understood his threat as coming from the Queen herself, as he hoped, she was unlikely to bring it up directly with Jon. Their relationship did not seem that trusting.  More likely she would drop hints from time to time… It was a good thing that Jon still trusted him enough to consider him a friend and share a drink with him now and again. He had never dreamed that a trip to Wall would end up building such bridges.

But what if she did mention what he had done to Jon and it made its way back to Daenerys? Well he always had his solid backup plan. He could tell the Queen that a Queen needs to be feared as well as loved, and that the sort of rumblings coming from the Northern lords made him fear that a group of them may try to assassinate Jon. Concern for those she loved was always paramount in the Queen’s regard. Any such explanation had a good chance of placating her.

Moreover he did needed his former wife to feel at least a bit threatened… 

 

* * *

 

“Your Grace I was thinking about certain marriage prospects,” Tyrion said.

“Really? And what were these _prospects_?” Daenerys said the last word with clear contempt. Her default expectation was obviously to think that he was going to talk about _her_ marriage. Of course Tyrion knew only a fool would take that road.

“I was thinking that the Vale of Arryn, although they had joined Jon, are not as firmly bound to your rule as the Notherners may be. House Stark has an ancient history with the North. House Arryn has a similar—”

“Get to your point Tyrion,” the Queen interrupted, rather harshly.

“I think it would be prudent to arrange a marriage between Lord Arryn of the Vale and the Lady of Winterfell.”

Daenerys’ eyes, which were ready to incinerate him where he stood suddenly softened as she realized that the discussion was not about her. She went into deep thought.

“It may be a good idea. I know Queen Rhaenys arranged such a marriage when Aegon first came to Westeros,” she said. “It was my ancestors' policy to unite the realm as much as possible through marriages.”

 _Excellent_.

“But what if Lady Sansa does not wish it?” the Queen asked.

“You are her Queen. It is proper that she obey even if she doesn’t wish it. The future of the Realm is certainly more important than mere personal wishes. It may work better if you were to approach her personally on the matter.”

She didn’t seem completely convinced. _But she didn’t need to be_. “Let me think on it my lord,” she said.

“Your Grace,” Tyrion said with a bow, as he left her.


	5. Daenerys 2

Dany was not happy. This was not good news. She hadn’t known what to expect, that is true, but she had hoped for something better. She was just reading the latest report on the situation in Dorne. Formally, Dorne had been recognized as being her territory, at least as per the current terms of the truce agreed upon with Cersei. This didn’t mean, however, that she exercised any real authority there. To be honest it always had been an uncomfortable alliance between her and the Sand Snakes. Her Hand hated them for murdering his innocent niece and they hated him for his name. _Dany knew what it felt like to be hated for a name_. Dorne may have more lax standards regarding legitimacy and bastards, but the fact remained that the Sand Snakes were not members of House Nymeros Martell. In fact, that ancient House had gone extinct due to their own actions. Ellaria Sand did not even have a blood connection to House Martell. Daenerys could legitimize the Sand Snakes, but what manner of precedent would that have set? They had murdered their own Prince and uncle, a man who by all accounts had protected, sheltered and loved them in his realm. They had also murdered his only living heir Prince Trystane. Dany shared blood with the Martells. Her namesake, an earlier Daenerys Targaryen had married into the Martells. And her own ancestor Daeron the Good, one of the best Kings to rule over the Seven Kingdoms had taken a Martell bride. Dany had Martell blood herself. Even a generation ago, Prince Doran’s sister had been the wife of her brother Rhaegar. She had suffered a brutal and cruel death at the hands of the Lannisters. And now…

Even Jon had found that alliance difficult to understand. It brought up other problems for him as well. He had told her, one night in her cabin on the journey to White Harbor how he had always felt like an outsider at Winterfell due to the way Lady Catelyn had treated him. Even her children had taken signals from their mother and picked up on some things about how he was different from them as a bastard. He had told her how, as children, he and his brother had played pretending to be heroes from a past era. On one occasion he had pretended to be the “Lord of Winterfell,” only for Robb to say that his mother said that he could never be that because he was a bastard. They were only children playing pretend games. But even there this fact--that he was a bastard with no right to any inheritance in Winterfell--could not be forgotten. Lady Catelyn had always feared that he may steal her children’s birthright. Jon had been determined to never do anything that even hinted of that. It wasn’t lost on him that the Sand Snakes had done precisely what Lady Catelyn had feared he may one day do. How many innocent bastards would have to suffer exclusion, perpetual suspicion, even death because of what they did? How many fourteen year olds would be driven to choose the Wall in the hope that what most of Westeros saw as a lifelong punishment would actually give them a 'better' life?

But what were her options at that juncture? She had needed them for her plans to work. For better or worse, by the time she made any contact with them, the Sand Snakes already seemed to have established some control over Dorne. Dany did not look forward to fighting a war of conquest in Dorne. Dorne had managed to resist the Iron Throne for two centuries even when the Targaryens had many dragons and dragon riders. Even the Aegon the Conqueror had not managed to make the Martells bend the knee. And when Daeron the Young Dragon had attempted a conquest of Dorne, he had lost 50,000 men and ended up dead himself. No one thought that a direct war of conquest against Dorne was a sensible idea. Everyone knew that only by marriage were the six kingdoms made seven. Yet Ellaria and her daughters not only offered to join her voluntarily, but also provided a fleet of ships that had been part of the grand fleet that had brought her and her armies to Westeros. She had not been in a position to reject that, even though it made her feel uncomfortable. She had planned to eventually address the problems it created, but that had to wait until she could wear the crown. Now all of that had been made irrelevant. Dorne was in a state of chaos. With all the legitimate members and even bastard relations of House Martell dead, various lords were all making a play for supremacy in Dorne. There were some who made claims based on marriage connections to the Martells centuries ago. Others like the Yronwoods claimed authority due to them having the greatest power in terms of the number of soldiers they could raise. Many had appealed to her as the nominal Queen of Dorne to come help adjudicate. All of them obviously assumed that she would decide in their favor and help them stamp out the ‘rebels’ who were usurping their legitimate claim.

She was actually quite powerless to do anything in fact. At least for now. Her armies were all in the North and given what was coming, there was no disengaging them at this juncture. She could fly a dragon down to Dorne and try to establish someone as the new paramount ruler, but that assumed that the Dornish would accept her verdict. What if they just kidnapped and imprisoned her if they didn’t like it? Would she call on Drogon to burn their city? And what would make them stick to whatever she decided once she left? Perhaps she should just throw her support behind whoever seemed likely to win the struggle anyhow. But who would that be? That was hardly clear. The Yronwoods with their claims to have the Bloodroyal and proud history were certainly more powerful on their own. But others could ally against them, including the Ullers from whom Ellaria came. _Should she even do something here_? She expected Cersei to surreptitiously support some against the others in the hopes that they would ultimately declare for her. She had the gold. That had always been the Lannisters greatest asset. Even though preliminary examinations at Casterly Rock had found the few mines her Unsullied had time to look at empty. Could Casterly Rock’s famous mines truly be empty? Neither Varys nor Tyrion had any clear idea and the default assumption had to be that they were still functional, only concealed so her forces couldn’t find them. But Cersei clearly still had ample wealth and gold, whatever the source. That could not be denied. Finances were one of the things she didn’t understand well yet... They’d hardly had any money when she was a child. Its movements and power confused her. Maybe the man who was now seeking an audience with her could help with that. He had been Master of Coin under Robert Baratheon, and even Varys and Tyrion, who had warned her to be careful around him had admitted that he had done a good job keeping the treasury afloat despite Robert Baratheon’s extreme wastefulness.

 

* * *

 

“Your Grace, I hope you are having a good morning,” said Lord Baelish, “have you had an opportunity to consider my ideas about improving the banking system in Westeros?”

 She wished she had been having a good morning, if whatever was going on outside could be called ‘morning’ in any sense.

“No I haven’t my lord,” she said honestly, “it seems to me that such things, while certainly important are not something I can do anything about immediately anyhow. The country needs to be peaceful and under stable government before I can start thinking of elaborate financial reforms.”

“Why of course Your Grace. I am no man of war myself and have precious little to offer in such matters,” he said humbly, “though matters of money and war are rarely that far from one another from the little that I know. Money is often the motive for war, and wars can be won by money as they can by armies.”

“And is that what you are proposing my lord?” Dany asked, “that we win this war against the dead with money? How would you go about doing that?”

“I wouldn’t have the first clue my Queen,” he said, “truth be told before Lord Snow announced what he knew about them no one even believed they existed. I would defer to his expertise on how to fight them. But the wars of the living, unfortunately, go on while we prepare to fight the dead.”

“Queen Cersei has agreed to a truce while we confront the dead,” Daenerys said, “in fact she has agreed to send her forces North.”

“Lannister forces in the North? That would probably cause far more discomfort to the North than even your forces my Queen. Perhaps Cersei has changed. The woman I remember would not have been able to work with anyone else. I suppose pregnancy changes things.”

 _Pregnancy? Cersei was pregnant?_ This was news to her. Nobody had informed her. How did Lord Baelish know if it was true? Was it true?

“Perhaps it did,” she replied, trying not to let her surprise show, although she wasn’t sure she had succeeded. “But I do wonder, my lord, how does a lord who has broken with Cersei and declared for House Stark, who has been sitting here in the North for a year, remain so well informed about Cersei’s moon cycles?

If he was uncomfortable or surprised at the question or the words she had used to articulate it, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead he chuckled. She wasn’t sure she liked that. Sometimes he seemed too clever for his own good.

“Your Grace, I was not born to a great name or wealth. I had to make it myself. Some of it was through means that may be considered honorable. Some not so honorable, even though legal. I owned brothels in King’s Landing. My connections with those engaged in that trade are still substantial. Palace servants of the Red Keep have needs like everyone else, both the men and the maids. And you would be surprised at the secrets people will let slip to a lover, even a paid one, when properly inebriated. I thought that must have been how Lord Tyrion managed to convince her to help us.”

 _It had been strange how quickly Cersei had changed her tune once Tyrion had gone in to meet her_. Nor had Tyrion been too forthcoming about how he had convinced her. Only that Cersei was more willing to talk to him now that she knew that he was not the one responsible for her son’s death. Had Tyrion known about her pregnancy? It certainly seemed like a better explanation of what had happened than any he had offered.

 “So what advice would you give me my lord with respect to matters of money that would be of immediate use?” she asked.

“Immediately, not much. Except that it may be best to keep informed of how the money is moving. I could certainly use the contacts I have fostered to keep track of it. For example, I know that the Iron Bank of Braavos has reached a solid understanding with Cersei Lannister to help her. That should certainly keep her quite solvent for now.”

 _WHAT_?

“Why would the Braavosi bankers do that?” she tried to remain calm. How many enemies did she have that she did not even know about?

“It’s not only the Braavosi my Queen,” he replied, “the Tyroshi, the Volantenes, the Pentoshi, in fact any of the big banking operations in Essos would choose to support her if she reached out to them.”

“Why? Is it because of their fame for always repaying their debts?” she demanded.

“Oh I’m sure that is part of it. Though the major part is surely your major disruption of the Essosi slave trade. The economy of the continent depends on it. From Braavos to Qarth significant profits were lost when you disrupted the chain. The Dothraki, among others were central to capturing the slaves. The cities of slavers bay were central to preparing them for service. You disrupted them.”

“I’ve lived in Braavos my lord,” she said, “the Braavosi hate slavery. Their ancestors were slaves. There is no slavery in Braavos. Why would they be opposed to me?”

He gave her a knowing smile. “Oh the Braavosi may express their hatred for slavery. They may not use their ships to capture or transport slaves or want to see slaves in the streets of their own city. But that certainly does not stop them from doing business with people whose livelihood is bound up with slavery. From Qarth to Volantis to Slavers Bay they lend money, they keep deposits, and they earn interest. How is this interest earned? Often through slave labor or other parts of the slave trade.”

“It’s called the Bay of Dragons now,” she said weakly, “it wouldn’t be right to call it Slavers Bay now that slavery has ended there.”

“Oh my mistake, your Grace,” he said, “old habits; although my information is that slavery has returned and the old Ghiscari cities are returning to their traditional function.”

“WHAT?” Dany could not believe it. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rend her hair. How was she uninformed about this? _Well she had been focusing all her energy on Westeros_. Was her entire effort destined to fail? _But you left it_ came a small voice from within. She will go back and burn these slavers to the ground this time… but just like in the case of Dorne, she couldn’t leave now could she?

“What about Meereen?” she asked. At least her city, the biggest of the slaver cities, would still be free.

“From what I know your grace, Meereen is now ruled by some former slave styling himself ‘Naharis the Dragon-tamer’ who is supported by Tyroshi banking outfits from what I can gather. The fighting pits are active and soldier slaves are being produced again.”

Daenerys could not bear it. _Three treasons will you know… Once for Gold_ … so it was Daario then?

She turned her back to him. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. _What had she done_? _Nothing_ came a cruel whisper from within. _The most powerful person in the world_. _Mhysa_. Which mother abandons her children?

“Is there anything else you need to talk to me about my lord?” she asked.

“Your Grace, uh, you sent for me.”

 _Oh_. She had. She had been thinking about Tyrion’s idea regarding a marriage between Lady Sansa and Robin Arryn of the Vale. Lord Baelish seemed to know both of them well and was from the Vale himself. It had seemed prudent to discuss the issue with him before broaching it with the Lady of Winterfell. But she was no longer able to think about that right now. One interview with Lord Baelish had turned her world upside down.

“Yes, my lord. I am feeling a bit ill right now. Perhaps we could speak on the matter later.” She still could not face him.

“I am always at your service, Your Grace.”

Once sure he had left, she called for Missandei. Missandei came, always with the same love and hope in her eyes that she had had for her ever since Astapor. Today Dany felt completely unworthy of it though. She had failed her. She had failed them all. She had failed the faith they had put in her. Dany could not raise her eyes to look at her.

“Can you please find and ask Lord Snow to come to me,” she said, “tell him I need him to come immediately.”

She did need him. So desperately. She felt like she was going to die. Maybe in his arms she’ll find the strength to continue living. To one day return and give these slavers what they served. But right now she needed Jon. Her port in a storm… she needed him right now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, thanks to everyone for your lovely comments and kudos. I will add a Jon chapter next as the people who did not write this off after the first chapter want it soon. It is earlier than I had planned so I will have to craft it carefully to avoid dropping any spoilers. Also, the next update and the speed of updates will be a bit slower than it has been for the first few chapters.


	6. Jon 1

He was sitting up in bed. Sleep rarely came to him these days. Tonight it was impossible. By his side lay Daenerys. His Dany. His _love_ —what a pathetically small word for what she was to him; for what she meant to him. But he was no bard, he was no singer. Language failed him—failed to express what he felt for her. So ‘love’ was the word he used, for what other words did he have? But what he could not say in words he tried to say without them. In the long moments that they gazed longingly in each others eyes, especially when they were alone. Did she get it? Did she understand? He hoped she did.

She was finally asleep. He was thankful for that at least—that she was finally able to sleep. At least for a few hours it would give her some relief from the burdens on her soul. The ones that threatened to crush her… part of him just wanted to go and kill Littlefinger in a gruesome way. He knew it was irrational, but fuck rationality. Littlefinger had hurt her with his news and he wanted to hurt him back. But that would have meant leaving her alone… and at this moment that was just unthinkable. She needed him. Needed him here. Needed him now. With her. So the rest of the world had to wait. The twisted meanderings of politics had to wait. The Night’s King and the end of the world had to wait. **_Because she needed him_**. And that trumped everything.

It was a thing the world around him didn’t understand yet. Probably it never will. But of course what she needed came first. And not because she was his Queen. She needn’t be his Queen for him to be her subject. The King in the North may have bent the knee to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen, but Jon Snow had already given his loyalty to Dany. And the silent pledge his heart had made had been infinitely stronger than any vocal pledge he could ever make. He could still remember the moment when that feeling of love had so overwhelmed him and left him helpless against anything she may ever ask of him. It was when she had told him that he could call her 'Dany.' That she wanted him to be able to use that name. It was only for him. At first it had been in private. But she had told him he could use it publicly as well, although he hadn’t started to as yet. _And you never will_. Because in his heart he knew there was no point.

When Missandei had found him earlier in the day (or was it night? Who could even tell these days?) and told him that Daenerys needed to see him urgently he had been staring at huge blood red star that had just appeared in the sky. Was it the same one that had been seen eight years ago? It certainly looked bigger and brighter. And the scarlet tail that followed it extended as far as the eye could see. Maester Wolkan was wondering how strange it was that it could be seen at all when even the sun hadn’t been seen for days. They were wondering if it had anything to do with the Long Night. All those thoughts had abandoned him when he saw Daenerys...

He had never seen her like this. Not even after their disastrous trip beyond the Wall when she had lost her dragon—no her _child_ —not ever. She looked so forlorn, so broken. The tears were following freely from her eyes. Who had done this? What had done this? His hand instinctively reached for Longclaw, as it often did when his world was thrown into catastrophic turmoil. Hoping that whatever monster had reduced her to this state was one he could slay—mad as such a thought may be. He knew she never showed her tears to anyone else. She couldn’t. Everyone looked to her to be their strength. She had to bear their burdens. Take their pains. And keep a brave confident face. Only with him was she able to share her griefs. He felt so privileged that she would this. And so completely and utterly unworthy of it.

He’d held her close. Kissed the tears away from her beautiful face… But they kept coming… She was in pain. And seeing her like this felt worse than death. He would know. He had faced death before. At that moment he’d gladly have faced it a thousand times again if it would only take away her pain. If it would only bring back the smile that brought him back to life every time it graced her face. But whatever it was, it was beyond his power. So he did what he could do. He held her. As tenderly and lovingly as he could. Strong and indomitable though she may be, in that instant she seemed more fragile than he ever thought possible. She had told him once how she had felt in her early years. Before she became a Khaleesi. Before she was a Queen. When her older brother used to beat her. Yell at her, screaming that she _had woken the dragon_. Was this how Dany had felt then? But he was gone. Her enemies had been destroyed. What new calamity had befallen his love?

Through whispers between sobs he had managed to piece together what had happened. Her years long efforts to eradicate slavery in Essos had been reversed after she had come to Westeros. The vile institution that had been rejected by Westeros ages ago was still alive and well in Essos. Daenerys had tried her best to eliminate it. She had seen the evils of slavery with her own eyes. It had made her heart bleed for the sufferings of those in bondage. The miserable wretches who had neither choice nor option to have any fate but being the property of another. To be used as property by their masters. To be discarded as property by their masters. And she could not bear it. Unlike the sanctimonious and so-called civilized peoples of the world who claimed to abhor slavery—as those in Braavos or all of Westeros—but merely condemn it from a distance and congratulate themselves on their superiority and the better practices of the society they were fortunate enough to be born into, she had done what no other had dared to do. She had dared to step in and stop it. And in doing so she had made herself a thousand enemies. Old and respected names all over the world that benefitted from the ancient institution of slavery and considered it as natural as the rising and setting of the sun and depended on it to provide a steady stream of reliable profits and incomes had come to hate her. The world was not about giving a voice to the voiceless but to reach accommodations with those whose voice mattered. That was the cynical conventional wisdom she had rebelled against. But remarkably, she had prevailed… or so it had seemed. _She protects the people from monsters_. That’s what Tyrion had told him. Now the monsters she had fought so hard were back. The people she had fought for, the ones who had called her _mother_ , Mhysa for them, had fallen back into the hands of those very human monsters. And she could do nothing to help them because even bigger monsters were coming to destroy the world forever. Someone had also betrayed her. Some man. She kept saying ‘he’ had betrayed her. But whenever Jon asked her who this man was, she just cried harder. So he stopped. If it caused her to cry then it was off limits. She needed comfort in his arms right now, so that’s what she would find.

After he had led her back to their room— _their room_ , not something he ever called it aloud, but Dany had taken to referring to it as ‘our room’ even though it was hers when she was staying at Winterfell—she had finally found peace in sleep. He hoped things would get better next morning. That at least some of the pain would have dulled. That at least his being there for her had helped. It may justify, in small measure, what he was doing…

 _What in the world am I doing with her_? It was a madness. An insanity that he could not bring under control. _She will never be mine, not really_. It was not like he had any illusions on the question. Then why did he keep going to her? Night after night. Was he hoping to get her pregnant? Was that his secret desire? Would that be fair to her? It wouldn’t. He knew that. But what was he to do then? Every day he’d tell himself that he had to start being stronger. To do the honorable thing. But a single smile from her, a single beckoning look, and his honor would be forgotten. _Was this how it was with my father when he met my mother_? How easy it had been for him to judge Ned once. And now look at him. “ _What is honor compared to a woman’s love_?” the old and beloved Maester Aemon had asked him once. He thought he had answered that question when he had left Ygritte. What a fool he was! For if **_this_** was love then honor did not seem like it was worth much at all. His bastard’s honor. Some would say he had none. Maybe they had been right all along.

So it was, that every day he found his feet walking back to Daenerys, as if of their own accord. Could he even try to stop himself? Sometimes he thought he could. Yet when the time came, the awareness that she was waiting for him, _expecting him_ , made it impossible for him to stop himself. He could not bear the thought he had left her waiting like that. _I can’t bear to be the one to hurt you_. _I hope I never do_. But how could he not? Would it not be worse for her the longer this continued? Wouldn’t it be more painful?

 _I hope whichever prince or lord you choose to make your King will make you happy_. He sent that up as a silent prayer. Even though the thought that she will ultimately end up with another man felt like a knife to the heart all over again. _Was there any other possibility_? There wasn’t was there? What were those words from the wedding rituals of the Seven?

 _I am yours and you are mine, from this day to the end of my days_.

Ygritte had once said something like that to him. He may not follow the Seven but those words had always sounded so beautiful. Would Dany ever say those to him? Would he ever be able to say those to her? _But it would be a lie would it not_?... Well a half truth _. I am certainly her’s till the end of my days_. But she was not his.

He comforted himself that intuitively Dany already understood this. Isn’t that why she was unwilling to ever define what he was to her? _She knows, at some level she knows that she cannot plan forever with me_. It hurt. Yet it also contended him that when the time comes, it would not be something that hurt her much. She would forget him quickly. _She must already sense that her destiny is not with you_.

He looked back at her. She was sleeping peacefully now. It was probably the first night in weeks when she had fallen asleep in her clothes. He decided to take a short walk and clear his head. Maybe have a drink of ale. Perhaps it would help him sleep. She wouldn’t be waking up any time soon.

 

* * *

 

 

“May I join you my lord?” Lord Varys asked as he was about to take his ale. He was not too fond of the Spider. He knew he was spying on people in Winterfell. But who was the real target of this espionage? He needed more to judge that. So far he seemed quite loyal to Dany, which was his job. Jon couldn’t really be angry at _him_ for that.

“Why not my lord, a bit of company is good at any time.”

“I did not imagine that I would be your preferred company at this time of night,” replied Varys. What was it with these Southerners and their indirect comments?

“Do you have something to say to me my lord? I would much rather prefer you say it straight to my face.”

“I apologize my lord,” Varys said, holding up his hands defensively, “it was not my intention to give offence. One gets used to certain way of talking as Master of Whispers in the Court at King’s Landing. After a time it is second nature.”

“Forget about it, my lord; there is nothing to forgive” Jon replied. He was telling the truth Jon supposed. These courtesies were not really taught to bastards after all.

“In fact, if I may say so, I have never seen the Queen happier than she is with you,” Varys said, “which is saying something given what is coming for us; although I must warn you that Lord Tyrion is most displeased with the current state of affairs.”

Really? _Did you think so when you reported to her on my conversation with Sansa_? What is your game here Spider? _Do you want me to think that you actually want me with the Queen? Why are you telling me about Tyrion’s displeasure though? Do you want me to start mistrusting him? Or are you warning me?_ It didn’t surprise him however _._ Tyrion was Hand of the Queen after all, so perhaps he was concerned that the relationship between him and Dany could have unwelcome political ramifications. It was not unsurprising. Davos had been concerned about things at first too.

“You flatter me my lord,” Jon said, “but I do not have such a high opinion of my bastard self.”

“I would think about it again Lord Snow,” Varys remarked, “the northerners are certainly not happy with your decision to bend the knee to our Queen. I seems so— _unusual_ to them. The new understanding between you and the Queen may help with that.”

“There is little unusual about it my lord,” Jon replied, “the North bent the knee to the Iron Throne and the Targaryens for centuries without any problems.”

“Without any problems,” Varys remarked with a sad smile, “that would not be how I characterize it.”

“Don’t talk in circles my lord, I told you I didn’t like that.”

“Do you actually know what happened to your uncle and grandfather my lord?” Varys asked.

Of course. Very child in the North knew. What was he doing? It was an uncomfortable story for Jon, of course. _But why is Varys bringing it up_?

“I have heard the general story my lord.”

“Ah yes, but so much gets suppressed in the general story that becomes widely known,” he said, “day can look like night and night like day, especially when hardly any who saw what happened are alive any more.”

“Are you telling me that the real story is otherwise? I know my father was never there, but I didn’t think there was much dispute about what happened. Is there something missing in that story?”

“Well you can be the judge my lord. Here is what actually happened. When Prince Rhaegar disappeared with your aunt, your uncle Brandon showed up at the Red Keep demanding that the Crown Prince come out and die. King Aerys deemed this talk treasonous and had him locked up. Then Lord Rickard showed up to try to have his son freed—”

“And the Mad King forced them to face trial by combat by saying that ‘fire’ was the champion of House Targaryen,” Jon said, interrupting him, “I already know this story.”

“But my lord, that is exactly the point where the popular story gets it wrong. In truth when your grandfather Lord Rickard showed up, the Mad King did not do what your story says. Instead the first thing King Aerys did was to summon your uncle and demand that before they discuss the matter of Lyanna, both your grandfather and uncle bend the knee to the Iron Throne and renew their vow of loyalty, or refuse and die. However, when asked to do so, your grandfather refused and said that the Iron Throne had wronged the North too long and he would not kneel to it. He said that the King knew nothing of the North since he had been born in the South. When the King decided to condemn him to death, he gave his son Brandon the same choice. But Brandon decided to join his father in his defiance instead. I suspect they thought the King would have them beheaded. But the King decided to have them burnt instead. I can still hear the terrible screams today. So my lord, that’s the real story, though there be hardly any who were there still alive. I dare say your assumption that the Northerners were always fine with the Targaryen rule was erroneous.”

That was a revelation to Jon. He had never heard this version of the story. It seemed to put a very different spin on the events of the rebellion. As well as the push for the North’s independence. But Varys was perhaps one of the very few who was actually there for it. _Which also means there is hardly any credible witness who may contradict him_. On the other hand, what possible reason would he have to invent this story? Perhaps it did happen that way then. Either way…

“That was not known to me my lord,” Jon said, “although I do not see how the generally unknown parts of that story could have wider political implications today.”

“Perhaps they cannot my lord,” Varys said, “but perhaps they can.”

Cryptic as ever.

“Allow me to take my leave my lord, I feel like sleep has finally started to win me over to its realm,” Jon said, and got up to return to Dany’s room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the Jon chapter. Since I didn't want it to be spoilery, it may have become very romancy. Although it is certainly not fluff. I hope those who are still giving this story a chance will enjoy it.


	7. Sansa 2

“Like many players in the arena, she has her strengths and weaknesses. Although hers are a bit different from most others, which may throw them off and make them unable to strategize wisely against her. That is a decided advantage.” Lord Baelish picked up an apple and bit into it. At least the apples had been preserved well at Winterfell.

“What weaknesses do you speak of my lord? I see little weakness here. She has returned dragons to the world. They grace the skies. Mighty. Invincible. Her armies are the largest ever seen in Westeros. Composed of the best soldiers Essos has to offer, who, by many accounts, are better at what they do than Westerosi soldiers. All of them are loyal to her. And she may or may not have my brother wrapped around her fingers as well,” Sansa huffed, “although I’m still undecided on the last.”

Littlefinger looked at her with sad eyes. “Truly sweet lady, is that all you see? I almost feel disappointed.” He shook his head. “Perhaps we should resign ourselves to the stations that the new order grants us and be thankful for whatever handouts our new masters decide to send our way. Become willing followers of the cult of Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name, the unburnt, the mother of dragons, Khaleesi—”

That is when she knew that this was mere mockery. “My lord if there is something you see that I do not, why not share it with me?”

“I see only what you see dear lady.”

“And what is that?” Sansa could no longer keep the irritated high pitch out of her voice.

Lord Baelish quirked his right brow in the knowing manner he so often did. “Tell me, Lady Sansa, what language do the Dothraki speak?”

“The Dothraki language,” she replied. Language? Was Littlefinger changing the subject?

“And the Unsullied? What language do they speak?”

“High Valyrian from what I can gather,” she replied. Was there a point here?

“And the dragons, do they respond to anyone in these armies?” he asked as a smile started to slowly appear.

“No they don’t” Sansa said haltingly, “but they all listen to her.” Realization dawned on her. She looked to Lord Baelish for acknowledgement that she had understood his meaning. She found it. “She is the biggest weakness.”

“A frequent problem for those who lead by convincing those around them that they are special, extraordinary, somehow more than anyone else. The Targaryens were masters of this like no other,” he said, rubbing his hands together to warm them. Even inside Winterfell’s walls it was frigid. “She is quite good at presenting that image too. Her herald announcing her titles. Riding in on her dragons. If rumors are to be believed she may even have control of the sorcery needed to avoid being hurt by flame. She is beautiful, has the looks of Old Valyria that are so rare now and commands giant monsters that terrify people. Not hard to mistake her as being close to the gods than to mere mortals. But like other mere mortals, the Targaryens were always mere mortals too. And the means that can bring death to us can send the Stranger knocking on their doors too. Tell me, my lady, what happens to Daenerys’ armies if she dies?”

“I—I don’t know,” Sansa said, “who succeeds her?”

“And what happens when the answer to that question is not clear?” his tone was almost smug now.

Realization dawned. “What happened after King Robert died,” she replied.

“Perhaps, but perhaps not,” Littlefinger was now pouring both of them some wine, “unlike the claimants after Robert, these forces have no ambitions or claims in Westeros. In fact from what I can understand, most of them feel quite out of place here.”

He was right. Without any succession to perpetuate the kingdom she was building, Daenerys was like a King on a board of Cyvasse. Remove that piece and everything else collapses. And humans, even Targaryens, were not invincible. Where did Arya’s loyalties lie? That was easy. With Jon. But where did Jon’s loyalties lie? She hoped she didn’t really need to force an answer to that question any time soon. She wasn’t sure the truth on it would be to her liking.

“You spoke of weaknesses my lord. Plural. What else did you have in mind?”

Littlefinger laughed out aloud. “Very perceptive Sansa. Alright then. Answer this, aside from her foreign forces, who's loyalty can her Grace really count on?”

“Her letter said that she commanded the united forces of Dorne and the Reach—”

“Which she no longer does. What else?” Littelfinger asked.

“I have heard that Dorne is in chaos but she still has some control in the Reach, does she not?”

Littlefinger shook his head. “Do you see any banners from the Reach accompanying her my lady?”

Sansa didn’t. “But that is because there is no new Warden there as yet.”

“Tell me, my lady, which House in the Reach would have the most likely position to get such a distinction bestowed on them?”

There was an obvious answer. “House Hightower of Oldtown of course.”

Littlefinger chuckled. “For now perhaps. I wonder what would be left of them once the Crow’s Eye descends on Oldtown with the full force of the Iron Fleet and the Golden Company, which he will be doing soon.”

WHAT? Where did this news come from? How did Littlefinger know any of this? Stupid girl haven’t you learned how he has sources everywhere by now? His Essosi friends must have told him. But where did Euron Greyjoy get the money to buy the Golden Company’s services?

“We need to tell Jon and the Queen at once Lord Baelish,” Sansa said, standing up quickly, feeling the urgency, “everyone thinks Euron Greyjoy had withdrawn to the Iron Islands and intends to stay there.”

“Really my lady?” Littlefinger asked. “What do you think the Queen will do if she heard that? Would it not force her to take her dragons south to try to save Oldtown if she could?”

It brought a terrible taste to Sansa’s mouth. What should she do? If she told the Queen, Daenerys may fly south. And at least at the moment, that seemed unwise. Better to let Daenerys hear of this after Oldtown has already fallen and nothing can be done about it any more. So she sat down _. Why was the world like this?_

“Once again then, my lady, I ask, what else does she have?”

“After Jon’s decision to bend the knee, she has the loyalty of the North and Vale,” Sansa replied.

“Well that leads us to an interesting question doesn’t it? One that I am a bit surprised you haven’t considered so far.”

“What may that be my lord?” Sansa’s curiosity was genuine.

“Tell me my lady, if Daenerys is our Queen, what is the likelihood that she will ever remove your half-brother from his position as Warden of the North even after the war is done?” he asked.

Sansa had thought of it, of course. “Little if any, I think.” It was her honest assessment. If Daenerys loved Jon, it was unlikely that she would take any title or position away from him.

“Right now he has no Keep or property to call his own. But that is easily remedied. So imagine this my lady,” Littlefinger had a smirk on his face now, “Jon, given legitimacy by the Queen, granted a new Keep, and vouchsafed the title of Warden of the North to pass on as a hereditary title to his descendants. What then becomes of Lord Eddard’s true line? Will House Stark’s eight thousand year rule over the North fade into history just like that?”

It was a painful topic for her. She was quite aware of the issue. Jon himself may never have taken the North from them, but things had changed now. If Daenerys loved him and wanted to marry him then making him a Paramount Lord in every sense made good sense. And why wouldn’t the Dragon Queen want Jon’s children to inherit rule over the North too? They will be her children. Her first child could inherit the throne and second child could still inherit the North. It would be quite an attractive option for her, wouldn’t it?

 “Even if I wanted to do something, what could I do here?” Sansa was perplexed. The discussion had started as one about Daenerys’ weaknesses but had spiraled into one about her own anxieties. “Jon may have bent the knee, but her military might could have conquered us anyhow.”

“Perhaps it would have. But there is a huge difference between conquest and rule. Armies help with one but can be rather helpless with the other.” Littlefinger took another apple into his hands but didn’t bite into it. “From my sources in Braavos, I have learnt that the Queen’s government was brought to a near standstill in the city of Meereen because of a secretive local insurgency lead by the Ghiscari nobility she had displaced. They had a constant supply of gold from the major banking houses in Essos. She was unable to get peace in one city with her forces. Her soldiers kept getting their throats slit from unseen daggers on a daily basis and her measures against it didn’t stop it. That was just _one city_ , my lady. What do you think is possible with an entire continent?” Now he bit into the apple.

“Were there to be such… uh… unrest in Westeros, would the gold be available to the instigators as easily as it was in Essos?” She asked.

“I do not see why not. It is not as if their reasons have changed.” Another bite of the apple.

Could she start such an insurgency if needed? Would the lords of the North and the Vale follow her? Would she be able to maintain the sort of secrecy needed for it? One thing was for sure, of course. If she did, she would need the guidance of the man sitting in front of her.

“You spoke of House Stark losing the North forever, my lord. What would you advise me to do here? Surely fighting her for it directly is suicide.”

“Then don’t fight her directly my lady.” Littlefinger finished the apple. “Just like the Meereenese did, it may be possible to force the Dragon Queen to compromise. In Meereen she was willing to go so far as to marry a Meerese noble to stop the violence. If it could be impressed upon her that there was great unease in the North with a bastard inheriting the North while Lord Eddard’s true children were reduced to just their ancestral Keep and lands, that the only ones capable of reconciling the North to her rule were the true Starks, Daenerys may be willing to appoint you as the Wardeness of the North.”

“And how is such unrest to be manufactured?” Sansa inquired.

“We may not have to manufacture it in reality if the perception is strong enough my lady. If you are interested, let me look into it.”

 

* * *

 

Her conversation with Littlefinger was still playing through her mind when she went to talk to Bran later in the evening or morning, whatever it was. Bran had become singularly unhelpful of late. He seemed to have no interest whatsoever in what was happening in the world of the living. All his focus seemed to be upon this fearsome army of the dead. She could ask her questions and Bran would simply ignore them. As if nothing had been said at all. Still she was going to try. Maybe she would get an answer this time.

“Bran I wanted to ask you about somethings that Lord Baelish said” she said. That seemed to get a rare reaction.

“Chaos was a ladder,” Bran said. That was quite useless.

“Bran what can you see about him?” she asked.

“Little and less, yet everything,” her mysterious brother replied. “He was, then he wasn’t, then he was again, again, again.”

“I don’t understand Bran!” This was exasperating.

“Too confused, the sun rises in the West and sets in the East for one who has walked through time.”

“What does that mean?”

But Bran was gone now. He would not answer her questions any more. Confused as ever, Sansa left his room and returned to her own chambers.


End file.
